Page 22 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

She looked visibly relieved. “I was three months pregnant before I even realized. I kept blaming the missed periods and nausea on the stress of moving to Paris, because I was super homesick. When I found out…well, that was when I tried to find you.”

“Can I…” Preston couldn’t stand it anymore. He wanted— needed —to hold his son.

“Hold him? Oh my gosh. Of course.” She lifted Lennon, carefully passing him over, though Preston noticed her hands were trembling.

The second she put Lennon in his arms, something he didn’t even realize was askew clicked into place, and he was overwhelmed by a happiness he’d never experienced in his life. Not even when the Rays had won the Stanley Cup nearly a decade earlier.

His heart raced and his vision blurred as he held his son for the first time. Honestly, it was taking everything he had not to fall apart. Not because he was upset but because it felt as if he’d just been handed the most precious gift of his life. His heart was so full, he worried it might burst.

Lennon looked up at him as Preston ran the tip of one finger over his soft, pudgy cheeks.

Chelsea wasn’t lying about him being off the charts.

The chubby baby was an armful, surprisingly heavier than he expected.

He recalled his mom telling him that he’d been her roly-poly little baby, joking that it took her ages to dig through the rolls to find his neck just so she could wash it during bath time.

Preston huffed out a breathy laugh when Lennon smiled at him.

“He’s perfect,” he whispered. “Chelsea, he’s perfect.”

She swallowed heavily, her voice still wobbly. “I know.”

“Hello, Lennon,” he said to the sweet boy. “I’m your daddy. You and I are going to have so much fun together. I’m going to teach you how to ice skate and how to play hockey and how to ride a bike and drive…”

Chelsea sniffled, reaching into the baby bag to pull out a tissue. Wiping her eyes and nose, she gave him the most sorrowful look he’d ever seen. “I’m so sorry, Preston.”

Preston’s brows creased. “Why?”

“Because you missed his birth, and the first three months of his life, and…” She paused, sucking in a trembling breath.

“I never meant to keep him from you. I just didn’t know what else to do.

I bought a ticket to the holiday party in Philadelphia for Allyson this year.

It’s being held again in a couple of weeks.

She was planning to drive there on the off chance you showed up.

I was hoping she could get your name and number so I could call you.

Of course, Ally, being Ally, she’s spent the last month inventing all these elaborate kidnapping schemes if you refused to give her the number.

She’s probably going to be a little disappointed to know I’ve found you, now that I think about it. ”

Her words fell out so quickly, Preston struggled to keep up.

“It was the only thing I could think of to do. I just…God, I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Chelsea, sweetheart. Breathe.” Preston reached out with one hand to grasp hers, giving it a squeeze.

“You gave me a son . He’s healthy and happy and perfect, and that’s all because of you.

I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry that you had to go through the pregnancy, the delivery, and all the sleepless nights without my help. ”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said.

“Neither do you.”

They fell silent as Preston continued to hold her hand while they stared at their son together.

“Look what we made,” he whispered, grinning at her. His shock slowly started to recede, replaced by wonder and delight.

She returned his smile, though it looked forced.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about,” Chelsea said after several more minutes of simply admiring their son.

They had so much to talk about that Preston couldn’t begin to imagine where to start. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly where to start. “I want to be a part of his life.”

A tear slid down Chelsea’s cheek. “I’m glad,” she said, her words not matching her emotions. “Honestly. I want you to be a part of his life, too. God,” she said, wiping her eyes with the tissue. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Preston squeezed her hand again. “We don’t know each other that well. We had one night together a year ago. It makes sense that might scare you.”

Her lower lip trembled. “It shouldn’t. I mean, I don’t regret that night at all, Preston. Not even now. That night with you gave me Lennon.”

“Us,” he interjected. “It gave us Lennon.”

She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. “For so long, he’s been mine. From the moment I knew he was growing inside me, he’s been mine. Just mine.”

“I know that. But from now on, I’m asking that he be ours. I’ll be a good father to him, Chelsea.”

“Okay, yes. Of course yes. You want to spend time with him,” she said, more to herself than him.

He nodded, because that was exactly what they needed to talk about, and it was bound to be a tough conversation, especially if there was another man in the picture. Preston didn’t bring that up, waiting for her to mention it.

While they’d shared a powerful connection last year, it appeared there was someone else in her life now.

“I realize I’m asking you to share him with someone who’s little more than a stranger,” he started.

“You don’t feel like a stranger to me. You never did. It’s just…with him…” She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to pull herself together.

“I’m not going to take him away from you, Chelsea.” He sought for a way to reassure her.

“I know that. I know I’m overreacting.”

“I don’t think you are,” he said. “As I said—we don’t know each other that well.”

“He’s the most important person in my life,” she explained. “I would die for him.”

Preston looked down into Lennon’s now-sleeping face. “So would I.”

Chelsea stared at him, long and hard, and the tears slowly stopped. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“I love him. I’ve known him all of ten minutes and I’m so in love with this baby, I can barely breathe.”

Chelsea started crying again, but this time they looked like happy tears. “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. I feel the same way.”

“We’ll figure this out, Chelsea. I promise. We’ll find a way to raise him together. Co-parenting.”

“I’d like that. Despite me falling apart—I’m blaming hormones—I have to admit it’s been tough. My parents help a lot, but I try not to impose on them too much.”

Preston wasn’t sure what to make of that. Where was the other man? Why wasn’t he helping her?

“I want to do everything right for him,” she continued, “but there are just so many hours in the day, and I spend the majority of them feeding him, bathing him, changing diapers, then trying to do the mundane stuff like laundry and sterilizing bottles while he’s napping.

Mom helps a lot, but my dad works long hours, so I hate to ask him for help—even though he’d give it if I needed. ”

“Well, now you have me to help with that,” he said, ridiculously excited about the idea of caring for his son, even though he was pissed off if some other guy was leaving her to do everything on her own. “Although, I don’t know how to do half of what you just said.”

She smiled, though it was far too brief for him. Then her anxiety crept back in. “Do you want to get a lawyer or…” She sighed. “I have no idea how to do any of this.”

“Let’s try to sort it out on our own first. If you’d be more comfortable drawing up something legal, we can do that, but for now, why don’t we start with the basics and move from there. We should probably address our expectations for each other and our hopes in regard to time spent with him.”

“Okay. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Same thing I always do. Bath, bottle, bedtime,” she replied.

“You have your own place?”

Chelsea grimaced. “Unfortunately, no. When I returned to Baltimore, it made sense for me to move back in with my parents, financially and because I needed help with Lennon.”

So she wasn’t living with the guy. Preston wasn’t sure why that fact made him feel better. No, not better. Hopeful. If she and Mr. Man from the Street weren’t in a serious relationship, Preston was throwing his hat in the ring. Because he was determined to expand on what they’d started last year.

Chelsea kept talking. “Living with them works…for now. They welcomed me home with open arms, and they’re over the moon with their grandson.”

Grandson.

God, Preston couldn’t wait to call his own folks.

Of course, knowing his mother, she’d be on the next flight from Seattle to Baltimore.

Soooo…maybe he should put that call off until he and Chelsea made some concrete decisions.

The upcoming conversation was already going to be difficult with the two of them trying to agree on who got him when.

He wanted to have some answers regarding all of that before he told his parents, because Mom would sure enough ask those questions.

“Could we meet for a late dinner tonight? To discuss where we go from here?”

She nodded. “Lennon typically goes down for the night at seven and, if I’m lucky, he sleeps until about midnight. My parents will be home to watch him, so how about seven-thirty?”

Preston wished he could be there for bath, bottle, and bedtime, but the two of them needed time to sort things out first. “How about Pat’s Pub? Have you ever been there?”

Chelsea shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard good things about it. I can meet you there.”

They fell silent again as Preston gently rocked his son. Lennon had fallen sound asleep, cooing the sweetest sounds as he breathed. It was almost like he was singing.

“I don’t know if I can walk away from him,” Preston admitted.

“I get that. I hate being away from him. I swear I spent the first month after he was born staring at him twenty-four seven. I have approximately seven million pictures and videos of him.”